The Hunters

Part 8

Sorry this upload has been loger than usual but i have been seriously busy and i hardly have aby time to write. This month is a hectic one so it might take a little longer to upload but i'll try my hardest.

Anyway, i quite like this chapter - even though i found it quite hard to write - and i hope you like it too.

Remember to vote comment ect...

it takes like two seconds and it means the world.

Paige.XOXO

8.

Rowan

     The dream is just the tip of the iceberg. I'm on the floor, unmoving, unblinking, unfeeling.

     If I could cry I would, but I cant. I just don't think I have any tears left.

     If I could scream I would, but I cant. I just don't think my throat can take it.

     If I could fight I would, but I cant. I just don't have the strength.

     If I could I would... but I cant.

     I cant do anything anymore. The worst part about it is that there is a part of me that doesn't want to anymore. It doesn't want to do anything. It wants to curl up in the corner and die. It came the moment I lost hope and has stayed ever since.

     Depression is a funny thing - not literally, really it sucks - when you hear it you expect the sufferer to be sad, grave. Some one who mopes about with a face like they have just been slapped. You expect them to be, well, depressed. I'm not depressed though. I'm not sad or grave I'm just... here. Hopeless and empty and waiting. I'm not depressed, I'm not anything.

     A gunshot.

     I hear it, faint and distant through the thick concrete walls but I hear it all the same. It is the sharp bang you hear before you see the crimson blooming out of pale skin. It's the bang you hear before the world fades to black. Its the bang that is the last sound you'll ever hear. It's the bang you hear before you die. And I hear it.

     The bang is followed with an almighty crash that shakes the foundations of the building. The crashes and bangs continue, an ever horrid symphony of destruction and all happening just above me.  

     "Oi you," a voice says from by the door. I don't look up but I know it is Faye. Her voice is more animated and alive at this moment but it still holds the same slither of hatred that everyone here adopts when addressing me and that undertone of dull monotone that is always present in her voice. "Get up now!" she orders and her voice is so urgent that my body responds without delay.

     Faye comes in behind me to sheppard me out but I am reluctant to leave. I am used to the confines of my prison, I have excepted it. Why am I leaving?

     Tyler comes into view flanked by Harry who is looking impatient. Tyler's blues eyes are wild and as wide as dinner plates. He doesn't look scared per se but he looks jarred and uneasy.

     "Come on kid, get a move on," he says harshly. I know he addressed me as 'kid' not as a term of endearment or a loving nickname but simply because he doesn't know what else to call me. In the entire time I have been here he has never once said my name. Although he talked to me as little as possible. I doubt he would have spoken to me at all if he could have helped it.

     "What? Where are you taking me?" I ask fighting against Fays insistent hands pushing me out the door.

     "We're leaving," Harry answers and looks swiftly down the corridor, "Now!"